The Second Book of Lankhmar

and showed around be glimpsed by them.
           Then, when a dazzlingly white fingernail clipping of the orb's self, serrated by the teeth of the central-most roof, showed, there was a general sigh of recognition and fulfillment which was echoed inanimately by an intensification of the chimes' real or imagined low vibrations, and the groups broke up and intermingled and joined hands in one long line, the girls leading with May at their head, the rest linked at random, and the whole company began a slow rhythmic circling of the Temple, twice all the way around, then interweaving the carven stone moon pillars — that of the Snow, the Wolf, the Seed, the Witch, the Ghost, the Murderer, the Thunder, the Satyr, the Harvest, the Second Witch, the Frost, and the Lovers — by sixes, by fours, by threes, by two, and individually.
           The girls wove their way one after the other, linked hand to hand, gracefully as in a dream. Old Ourph footed it agilely, stamping out the time, while Mother Grum moved briskly for all her fat and with a surprisingly sure rhythm. Rill brought up the rear, swinging a leviathan-oil lamp, unlit, from her maimed hand.
           As the moonlight slowly strengthened, Fingers marveled somewhat fearfully at the strange Rimish runes and savage scenes carved in the thick moon pillars. Gale squeezed her hand reassuringly and told her in whispered snatches how they represented the adventures of the legendary witch queen Skeldir when she descended into the Underworld to get the help that enabled her to turn back the three dire Simorgyan invasions in the Isle's olden days.
           When the seven slow mystic circlings had been completed and the glaringly white orb of Skama (the Goddess's holiest name) fully arisen, so that sky-black hugged her all around, May led the weaving line out across the great meadow to the west, moving forward confidently in the full moonshine. For a short way the shadows of the twelve pillars and the jaw-hung chime accompanied them, then they launched out one by one across the trackless moonlit expanse, the frozen and snow-dusted grass crackling under their feet. May followed a serpentine course, veering now left, now right, that copied their last pillar-weaving, but went straight west, their shadows preceding them.
           And then Afreyt called out in vibrant tones the sacred name, "Skama!" and they all began to chant, in time to their dancing advance, the first song to the Goddess:
"Twelve faces has our Lady of the Dark
    As she walks nightly 'cross her starry park:
    Snow, Wolf, and Seed Moon, Witches, Ghosts, and Knife,
    The Murderer's badge; six more of dark and light:
    Thunder, Lust, Harvest, Witches second life;
    Then end the year with Frost and Lovers bright;
    Queen of the Night and Mistress of the Dark
    In your black veils and clinging silver sark."
           Their voices fell silent for five beats, Afreyt again called, "Skama!" and they began Her second song, their steps becoming longer and more gliding to suit the changed rhythm:
"These be your signets, dread Mistress of Mystery:
    Rain bow and bubble, the flame and the star,
    Night bee and glow wasp, volcano, cool history,
    Things that are hintings of wonders afar;
    Comet and hailstone and strange turns of history,
    Queen of the Darkness and Lamp of the Night,
    Lover of Terror, cruel and sisterly —
    Crone, Girl, and Mother, arise in your white!"
           A four-beat pause, once more "Skama!" from Afreyt, and now their dance became a rapid and stamping one, as though they advanced to the pounding of a drum:
"Snow Moon, Wolf Moon, Seed Moon, Witch Moon;
    Ghost Moon, Knife Moon, Blast Moon, Lust Moon;
    Sickle, Witch Two, Frost Moon, Fuck Moon.
    Skama beckons, Skeldir goes down
    By the lightless narrow stoneway,
    Buried Rimish fashion feet first,
    Bravely facing poison monsters,
    Treading serpents with her bare feet;
    Through dry earth and solid rock;
    Sinks like ghost into the granite;
    Skeldir's courage fails, she falters —
    When she spies the moon below her,
    In the heart of darkness, light!"
           This time Afreyt let twenty beats go by before giving her invocation, and the hand-linked linear company began a repetition of the three songs while they continued their curving and countercurving westward advance. A little toward the north Elvenhold loomed, a pale stout needle of rock and scrub heather to whose square top the strongest bow could not loft arrow. Two moons ago, on